The Beast and His Due
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: 'Oh, how low the Beast did fell! All the way down, down! All the way down, DOWN! Now that the Beast is here, the fun is so very near! There are rules here, yes, there are rules here, and you need to hear! A Beast is nothing without a Beauty, so find your Beauty, it's your duty! That's rule number one, it's the most important one' Welcome to the Devil's Carnival. GaaLee AU


It began with a subtle, overpowering _I'm being watched_. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, his skin grew cold, and a niggling in the back of his mind demanded that he turn around and see who was stalking him. _I'm being watched_, all throughout the day and into the night, as if the same eyes were always on him, following his every move. _I'm being watched_, but there was nothing there whenever he turned around.

He told himself to ignore it, though a growing sense of paranoia told him that he had to run, he had to hide, he had to fight, he had to do something to combat those disembodied eyes. He ignored that as well. He would fight when there was something corporal to fight, and not just his own chills.

Then there shadows. Out of the corner of his eye, on the very edge of his peripheral vision, there was always something moving. He would jerk his head around to see what it was and there would be nothing there. When he would look away, it would return. Just there, just where he could see it crouch and squirm and stretch, and not know what it was or if it was even real.

But Gaara had insomnia, so he brushed it off as needing a full night's rest and took his Insomnia Relief before settling into bed.

When he woke up, the alarm clock on his side of the bed said that it was past two in the morning and his partner was curled into his side, passed out cold.

And there were noises. Scuffling… movement. Just outside the bedroom door, a solid 'thump… thump… thump' of feet.

Gaara moved slowly, one hand going to his bedside drawer for his gun and the other arm coming around his lover, pulling him protectively closer, even as he shifted to get off the bed.

His lover settled back with a sigh once Gaara dislodged himself. He slowly stalked to the door….

'Thump… thump… thump…'

Something hit the door with a resounding BAM! Gaara froze, eyes darting to his lover. Still passed out. Gaara began moving forward again.

'Thump… thump… thump…'

BAM!

He cocked his pistol and turned off the safety. His hand loosely circled the doorknob…

"Don't…" Lee began, but he was only talking in his sleep. He finished with a mumble and sighed into the pillow.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

He threw open the door and took a shot at –

The wall.

Lee screamed in surprise and panic as he leaped out of bed, dark eyes wide and wild as he looked frantically around the room. "What's going on?!" His gaze settled on Gaara, standing in the doorway with a heated pistol, facing off with plaster and wood. "Gaara? Gaara, what happened?"

He carefully stepped into the hallway. He looked down one end of the corridor and then the other. There was nothing there.

"Gaara?" Lee had come to his side. He put his hand on his shoulder and looked worriedly at him. "Gaara? Did someone try to break in? Did you see something…?"

He looked from the gun to Lee. "Someone was here."

"Oh. Okay." He ran a hand through his hair and looked down one end of the hall and then the other suspiciously. "Let's call the police. Hopefully, the neighbors haven't already…"

"I need to check the house," Gaara said.

Lee nodded. "We will check it together."

"No." Gaara paused. He knew Lee was a master of the dragon kung fu style as well as several other forms of martial arts. Lee could very well keep himself safe, just like Gaara could.

But the idea of him encountering whatever had been on the other side of the door made Gaara's heart shudder in, and it was almost too foreign to name, _fear_.

"Make the phone call and I'll be right back."

"But, Gaara –"

"Lee." He kissed his partner softly. "Please."

His desperation must have shown because Lee gave in with mindboggling ease. Slowly, his lover nodded. "Okay. Yell for me if you need me, alright?"

"I will." And he would. Maybe.

Yet a part of him instinctively knew that he would rather die than make Lee face what Gaara himself had not even seen.

The flat was clear. A couple of neighbors from the complex came banging on the door, asking what had happened. When the police finally arrived, they took his and Lee's statements and then left, looking highly doubtful about their story.

Even after they managed to get everyone to leave, they still could not go back to sleep. Lee was massaging the back of Gaara's neck and back, trying to get him to relax. He told him, over and over again, that he believed Gaara. If Gaara said he had heard something, then he must have.

Lee bowed over his shoulder and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love you, Gaara."

He leaned back into Lee, closing his eyes with a soft sigh. Because he couldn't repeat those words, he simply turned his head and kissed Lee back, knowing it would convey his feelings for the other man. Lee smiled brightly.

It happened again that night.

'Thump… thump… thump…' BAM!

'Thump… thump… thump…' BAM!

Gaara grabbed his gun again and rounded on the bedroom door. Just as his hand settled tightly around the doorknob –

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

"Don't open the…" Lee drifted away from that train of thought and followed another dream with a small smile on his face.

He threw it open. All that was there was the new plaster they had put on the opposite wall.

Lee murmured sleepily again and turned onto his side, facing him. Gaara wanted to go look through the flat, but…

He couldn't leave Lee alone.

Quietly, he closed the door.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then…

'Thump… thump… thump…'

Gaara stepped away from the door and fell back on the bed. He kept the gun in his hand and wrapped his arms tightly around his peacefully sleeping lover, both eyes always on the door.

'Thump… thump… thump…'

It happened every night for two weeks. Gaara caught cat naps in the day and evenings, letting Lee's back rubs and hair brushing lull him off for only a little while at a time. Lee was worried and he asked him if everything was alright.

Gaara hadn't told Lee about the footfalls the second night, or any night after it. Lee would insist on taking guard during the night. And then what would happen if he hastily charged the presence in the hallway? What if he got hurt and Gaara couldn't help him because he had taken his Insomnia Relief and was dead to the world? Gaara knew Lee. Lee never ran away from a problem. He would first try to solve it himself, either physically or moralistically. Gaara doubted Lee could talk their unwanted visitor into leaving by telling him that it was wrong to steal into someone else's house and that it should be ashamed of itself.

So he stayed up and didn't tell Lee that something stalked outside their bedroom. His insomnia was a good excuse, and exhaustion was not as big a risk as the Insomnia Relief.

That Thursday night, he prepared to settle into bed with Lee. Walking out of the bathroom, his lover was already there… naked.

Lee grinned at him and threw a bottle of lubricant his way before laying back and spreading his legs. "Come, Gaara," his lover fairly purred. "I feel a great and growing need to be one with the man of my heart."

Gaara's hand clenched around the lube. He almost told Lee that he couldn't. Pseudo-reasons lined themselves up neatly on his tongue as his eyes flew to the door.

Lee could not be awake by the time the intruder came. And Gaara could not be slowed by coitus bliss either.

Before he could say anything, though, Lee had already grown tired of waiting and had crawled off the bed. He dropped to his knees in front of Gaara and tugged the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms, pulling them halfway down his thighs. Lee licked his pouty lips and gave him a burning, hungry look.

Gaara lost all words and the ancient self-control that defined him…

Slipped away.

Gaara snapped awake. Judging by the alarm clock, he had only been asleep for two hours. Lee was still using his chest as his pillow, legs interwoven with his, and Gaara's arm was still wrapped around him, holding him tight against his side.

'Thump… thump… thump…'

He untangled himself from Lee and grabbed the gun. He stalked the door and –

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

"Don't open it…" Lee's voice made him pause, hand on the door.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

"Don't open it!" Lee cried out in his sleep, twisting and turning in the blankets. Tears tracked unconsciously down his cheeks and he began screaming. "DON'T OPEN IT!"

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

Gaara had never before seen Lee so scared.

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

There was an inhuman roar from the other side of the door. Lee whimpered and whined and flung his arms out. "Don't open it… don't open it… don't open…"

But Gaara had to. He had to protect Lee.

He threw the door open.

The shadows in his vision receded slowly. Awareness came some time later.

Gaara turned onto his side, coughing weakly. It felt as if he had been bodyslammed into a concrete wall. Repeatedly. Sore and stiff, he turned onto his hands and knees and tried to rise.

His mind, sluggish and full of blanks, forgot to warn him that the ceiling he had been staring at was far too close for such a thing as standing, and his head cracked against the ceiling.

He cursed softly and toppled back over.

When the black spots finally left his vision, he sat up and gave his surroundings a weary eye. He appeared to be in a cage. A small cage with bars on one wall. He sidled closer to it and looked out.

There were flashing lights and large, gaudy-colored tents, worn and torn with age. Off to the side, a few amusement rides glowed and twinkled with their own decorative lights, all in an array of red and white. He looked up and the sky was on fire. Flames licked and flickered, but were too far away to share its heat and everything was as dark as night, as if the flames emitted no light at all. The grass was yellow and the dirt was a bleeding scarlet.

He wrapped his hands around the cold bars and pressed closer. Looking down, he was able to see the red and sandy brown of a sign hanging from his cage:

_**~ The BEAST ~**_

He sat back and came to a conclusion. It was a carnival wagon cage. He was in a carnival wagon cage. Judging by the tents and the rides, he was at a carnival.

He tried to remember how he had gotten there, or even what he had been doing before waking up in a cage, but nothing came. His memories were one long scrambled mess of shadows and the sound of footfalls.

There was a creak, a screech of hinges, and then one side of the cage came open. Gaara stared at his freedom apprehensively.

"Don't open it…" he said, and thought, maybe he had heard that somewhere before.

He crawled out and stood on the bleeding dirt. It was moist beneath his bare feet and he looked down at himself for the first time. All he was wearing were a pair of ripped leather pants. But then there were brown leather cuffs on his wrists, chain links attached to them, though broken. He felt his neck and a thick leather collar, most likely matching the cuffs, was there to meet his fingers.

He glimpsed at the cage sign.

_**~ The BEAST ~**_

Now, however, there was a folded paper teetering between the bars, as if randomly stuck there. It was burnt around the edges and aged an old, spotted yellow. He took another glance around.

No one was there. No one but him, the cage, and the abandoned carnival that looked like it had seen more massacres than business.

He took the paper and unfolded it.

A picture fell out and soared to the ground, face-up. Gaara stared at the young man grinned brightly back at him. The young man had long, glossy black hair restrained in a loose braid and the largest, most expressive eyes Gaara could ever remember seeing, so dark they could have been black. He had one hand raised in front of him, showing off a simple engagement ring.

Gaara looked from the picture to the paper.

_Do yOu kNow wHO I aM?_

The dirt smeared across his one knee and hand as he picked the photo up. Scarlet stained the back of it and Gaara's fingers too.

He looked back at the paper.

_Do yOu kNow wHO I aM?_

_Do YoU KnOW WheRE I Am?_

There, out of the corner of his eye – a shadow was moving.

He jerked his head around, instantly regretting the motion because there wouldn't be anything there. There never had been.

Except there was. Gaara's entire being pulled backwards, away from the gory mess of a human figure. Blood poured off of it as it dragged itself along the scarlet and yellow ground, stumps where his feet should have been. It reached out one stub of a hand towards him, a large, round mouth opening wide, wider, wider, and Gaara heard its jaw unhinge.

No sound came out. It simply reached and gaped. It had no facial features except for that mouth, and all Gaara saw inside of it was a black hole.

Gaara didn't dare turn his back on it as he edged away. He tensed as he felt the fabric of a tent against him.

Then he passed through a flap and show lights danced around the green-glowing innards of a carnival tent.

'_Fun for us and our bellies too!_

_Come, come, we're all hungry to meet you!'_

He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening.

There was a circus ring. In it danced and twirled men and women in costumes more suited for circus freaks and haunted houses, torn tutus and ripped tuxedos, checkerboard tights and bodices that cut too deep. There were top hats and capes and a midget with the face of a snake slithered around.

A man split himself from the party, lurching towards Gaara. He had mouths on the palm of his hands and half of his face was chipping away, blackened along cracks in his skin, as if he was made of broken clay. His long, blonde hair was frayed and burnt.

'_Don't be shy, don't you cry, don't you try to walk on by!' _The man sang deliriously. _'We've been waiting here for you, let you know I'm being true, you're our guest of honor, un! Don't leave us here so soon!'_

The man grabbed him by his collar and spun around him in dizzying circles. He stumbled over his feet, trying to regain his balance and break free. But the man's strength was inhuman and the collar wouldn't break. The man trailed his hand over his chest and then back up to his collar. Something clicked.

Laughing madly, he threw a gilded chain out to the circle and hands pulled and tugged at it. The other end connected to Gaara's collar, he was dragged to his knees and then forced back up, thrown from side to side and nearly strangled. He scrabbled at the leather. But, like earlier, there was still no way to remove it.

The party as a whole sang,

'_We welcome you, the Beast to Hell! Oh, how low the Beast did fell!_

_All the way down, down! All the way down, DOWN!_

_Now that the Beast is here, the fun is so very near!_

_Now hush, you, and listen to what we tell you!_

_There are rules here, yes, there are rules here, and you need to hear!_

_A Beast is nothing without a Beauty, so find your Beauty, it's your duty!_

_That's rule number one, it's the most important one!_

_Hold it close, don't let it go! Now let's get on with the show!'_

His chain was jerked one more time, careening him face-first into the red dirt.

When he lifted his face, there was no one there.

It was coming towards him on the path. It was taller than any human Gaara had seen, and even as tall as the smaller tents it skulked by. Its face was nothing but melted flesh with beady red eyes staring out of it. It had no lips, only rows of sharp, yellow teeth. Its skin was pasty white and its ribs stood out in sharp contrast to its bulging belly, which squirmed and slithered as if snakes were inside of it.

It stopped and sniffed the air with a nose Gaara didn't even know it possessed. Its small head, standing atop a long, roped neck, lolled towards him.

It groaned sweetly, like a lover, and skulked after him.

Gaara ran into another tent and the lights were yellow-tinted. A man in a top hat and holding a whip smiled grimly at him.

The man held up a picture. The same raven-haired young man that was in Gaara's picture smiled lovingly at someone sitting beside him, someone Gaara couldn't see because of the man's strategically placed thumb.

'_Does the beast know_

_Who his beauty is?_

_Did the beast love enough_

_To even care for his heart?_

_Where, or, where, did the beast's beauty go?_

_Where, or, where, did the beast's beauty go?'_

The man fisted his hand and the picture crumbled. _'Does the beast even know?'_

'_Hello, hello, hello, lost little Beast. _

_Do you want to play a game, a game I choose?'_

Gaara turned around and faced a booth. A man with bleeding red hair and black holes for eyes leaned over his stand. There was a plastic sheen to his perfect skin and a thin line that went around his throat. His arms were the pop-off kind that was more familiar with dolls and his fake pink lips moved oddly when he spoke.

'_Come closer, come closer, I'll tell you the game…_

_Don't try to walk away, you know you want to play._

_The stakes are too high for you to leave._

_I have a prize you want, a prize you can't leave behind ~'_

He tilted his head down and to the side. The motion made a strange squeaking sound.

'_For a shoot, I'll tell you a tale._

_A tale of a man you might know._

_For a shoot, I'll tell you a tale,_

_And it will be a tale about you.'_

Gaara guardedly stepped closer. "What do you know about me?"

The doll-man shook his head and the squeaking happened again. He reached beneath the stand and pulled out a pistol. It was a Desert Eagle, rusted and dirty, as if molested by rain and soil. As if it had been buried for a very long time.

The doll-man stood back and revealed a beating red heart nailed to the back wall of the booth. Its arteries were still attached, pumping blood into the air.

He sang,

'_Riddle and shoot the heart,_

_Let your aim lead you true_

_And your own pistol guide you._

_Just pull the trigger and stop its beating._

_Kill it in one shot and I'll tell you a story._

_A story you want to hear.'_

Gaara took the pistol in his hand and his fingers burned as he rested lightly in the trigger. He checked the barrel, found a single bullet, and then cocked it, all in one smooth, flawless motion.

Small, long-fingered hands curled around his shoulders and stroked his back. They tore through his skin, as if the palms were covered in small, sharp teeth. A woman's voice whispered into his ear,

'_How does the Beast who knows not who he is,_

_And not who he is looking for ~_

_Know how to hold a gun, a gun?_

_How does the Beast know how to hold a gun?_

_What is in memories and what can be taught,_

_Instinct takes hold and you take the shot._

_That's what you know, it's what you were showed ~_

_So will the Beast remember,_

_How he came to be here at all?'_

He looked around and a white paper rose flittered to the ground.

'_Take the shot… take the shot… take the shot!' _The doll-man's head popped off and rolled along the stand till it looked up at Gaara. _'What's a Beast without some beastly features? Like claws that tear and teeth that render, or blood to hold it like a cloak? Take the shot, take the shot, take the shot! And I'll tell you what to know. A Beast is nothing but a monster, and you're nothing more.'_

He shot and the heart exploded.

The body picked up its head and the head sang as it was put back in place,

'_It takes a village to raise a boy,_

_And a village to break him down._

_You're not loved, they said,_

_And the boy believed every word._

_He took a gun in his hand and a knife in the other,_

_And carved love into his skin and out of others._

_He killed, he burned, and he never felt an ounce of guilt,_

_For the ones he hurt._

_If he couldn't be loved, then no one could,_

_And that was how he felt._

_His heart became as black as hate,_

_And his eyes were as old as pain._

_He took it out on everyone who dared to come too close,_

_And he took it out on himself._

_He'd never be so foolish again._

_He took a gun in his hand a knife in the other,_

_And carved love into his skin and out of others._

_It takes a village to raise a boy,_

_And a village to break him down._

_But it only takes a boy_

_To burn the village to the ground._

_And that boy…'_

The doll-man produced a hand mirror from behind its back and held it up so Gaara could see his own face.

He startled inwardly at his own appearance. He was pale and the bags beneath his exotic eyes were heavy and dark. Spikes of crimson red hair fell into his face.

The doll-man reached towards him and brushed them aside, squeaking the entire time. There was a scar on his temple, raised and glossy white against his forehead. It was a symbol. It was Kanji. It meant Love. These facts came to Gaara, clipped and random, and he blinked sluggishly at his reflection.

'… _was you.'_

Gaara huddled between two tents. Something hissed and slid along the path, something that Gaara did not want to face immediately.

He pulled out the picture of the young man from his pocket and stared it.

"Who are you?" he asked the photo.

The young man just grinned at him.

It happened suddenly.

A hobo clown, limbs stitched together and eyes blindingly green, big ball nose black velvet, grabbed him by his arms and shoved him into a tent.

A man was waiting there for him. He had painted himself as a skeleton and his hair was grey. He bowed lowly as he saw Gaara and smirked, revealing rotted teeth and a crawling worm.

The he stood and stepped to the side. A tall, black door stood behind him, standing on its own in the middle of a circus ring. Its doorknob had brass fangs and the door groaned, inhaling in and out, bulging and then shrinking back, as if it was the belly of something breathing.

'_Open the door and see the people!_

_Every person, all the people, every man and woman!_

_You'll see some familiar faces, and feel some familiar things._

_Come, open the door and see the people!'_

Gaara took a step back and hit the chest of the hobo clown. He was shoved forward.

'_How much encouragement do you need?_

_Surely, you must be losing to your curiosity?_

_Don't you remember that you don't know a thing?_

_Open the door and see the people!'_

The skeleton man laughed. It was harsh and loud and Gaara felt cold. So very cold.

'_They've been dying to meet you, Beast!_

_Yes, they've been dying to see you again, Beast!_

_The faces in there, they're from your past,_

_Your bloody, filthy, disgusting, morbid past!_

_Open the door and come see the people!'_

But a voice in the back of Gaara's mind, desperate and terrified, screamed for him not to. Don't open it. Don't open the door!

"I want to leave," Gaara told the skeleton man.

He smirked and swirled around the door, disappearing for a moment. And then he reappeared on the other side, hand on the doorknob, blood dripping, and he laughed again.

'_Don't be such a coward!_

_Don't you run away!_

_Don't you want to see,_

_What's on the other side of this door?_

_Don't you want to see,_

_The ugliness on the other side of this door?_

_Don't you want to know,_

_The things you've done to end up here for?_

_I'll help you, Beast, _

_It doesn't hurt me to hurt you._

_Open the door and see all the people!'_

And he swung the door open. Shadows writhed and groaned in the doorway, leading into shades of grey and black, so deep and endless as opposed to the hay-strewn ring. It was a gateway.

And then faces appeared in it. Women and men, riddled with bullets or slashed at the throats. They clawed at the doorway, eyes milky white and skin stretched tight over their frames, rotting away in blue and grey.

Gaara couldn't breathe as he saw them. He knew them. Maybe. He had no memory of them, but something in him knew that they all had one thing in common and it was because of him.

He had killed them. There were almost a dozen faces and he had killed them all.

His throat constricted and he screamed.

The hobo clown and skeleton man laughed at him and he screamed till he couldn't make a sound any longer. And, in his mind, he kept screaming.

And he remembered his father's face as he stabbed him in the chest thirteen times and he remembered his uncle's face as he woke him up in the middle of the night and slashed his throat. He remembered the money he took to kill people he didn't know and he remembered the icy grip on his heart that refused to thaw. It gripped him again and the screaming dwindled away till there was only silence, inside and out.

The hobo clown released him and he walked out of the tent, his mind full of killing and the evil that was inside of all people.

It made him wonder why he cared about the fate of one man. A man he couldn't remember.

She had a paper white rose in her hair, and her paper evening gown tore with every small step she took.

She cupped his cheek gently and tilted her head in for a kiss.

She bit through his bottom lip, bit till he bled, and then licked the blood away. Her paper white rose and evening gown bled with newfound color. Her skin against his made him bleed, as if razor blades hid just beneath her skin.

He wanted to back away and go down a different path, but her eyes held him as she crooned,

'_A Beast is nothing without a Beauty,_

_To remind him of what's dear._

_And when a Beast forgets the light,_

_A Beauty steers him clear._

_A Beauty leads a life that a Beast wants to join._

_And a Beast deserves to rot in Hell and pay the Devil's fare,_

_If he can not bring himself to care for what his Beauty shows._

_So why are you here, Beast? Why are you here?_

_Do you not know you are without a Beauty?_

_Why do you not shed a tear?_

_Why is your heart locked away and your Beauty all alone?_

_Why, Beast, why, Beast? Why are you being so cold?_

_Do you not know that, if you stay, you will have to pay the toll?_

_Then where will your Beauty be, without a Beast to hold?'_

She kissed his scar and her lips felt like needle points.

'_Do you even know who your Beauty is?_

_Or where to even look?_

_Do you know a name to call,_

_Or even what direction your Beauty took?_

_There are only two ways to go from where you were,_

_And your Beauty is not where you are._

_Where else is there to look, but up towards the sky?'_

He tore himself free and her image was ripped, as if taken between angry hands. Her paper remains caught fire and burned as he walked around her.

_The Final Act of:_

_The Beast and His Due_

The sign glowed and grinned with flashing lights. Gaara took hold of the red velvet, moth-eaten curtains and swung them aside, entering a long, dark tunnel. There were mirrors on the walls and each showed a different reflection as he passed them by.

A little boy with tear stains on his cheeks, screaming soundlessly and pulling his clothes closer to his naked, broken body.

A slightly older boy carving into his forehead with a knife, covered in foot to head with blood.

A young teenager wearing a red duster, gun pointed at Gaara as he pulled the trigger, his face emotionless and eyes dead.

An older teenager, kneeling on the floor of the mirror, clutching at his head, shaking, screaming, crying, and lost.

A young man watched him go by dully, without frigid malice or blank killer intent, but also without interest or care.

A slightly older man gave him an almost sad look.

The perfect reflection of himself, without the cuffs or collar, closed his eyes and didn't stare back at him. He held one hand over his heart and a wedding band shined on his ring finger.

The hall ended with another curtain and he entered a dark room with flashing white lights. He felt distorted and dizzy as he tried to find his way through in the brief moments of visibility.

An echo started in his ear and rang through his mind. His mouth opened and a song poured out in soft, mournful tones.

'_Remember, Gaara… Remember, Gaara…_

_The time you were not alone._

_You held a lover in your arms and your gun was in the ground._

_Your heart was full, you were warm, and you had a reason to go on._

_Remember, Gaara… Remember, Gaara…_

_There was laughter on the wind and a life in your hands._

_You did not need to take because it already belonged to you,_

_A hand to hold when you needed it and a heart to call your own._

_Remember, Gaara… Remember, Gaara…_

_You were loved by someone who wanted you as you were,_

_And that someone wanted to hold you at night,_

_And keep your side by day. _

_Remember, Gaara… Remember, Gaara…_

_You were changed and the path you walked was gone._

_You threw your weapons down and never picked them up again._

_Death and despair didn't have a place in your newfound home._

_Remember, Gaara… Remember, Gaara…_

_You shed your fangs and claws,_

_A man who loves as deep as you _

_Can never be a Beast._

He fell into a room with boards on the windows and an old armchair at its center. A man sat in it with long black hair and crimson red eyes dotted with black. His claws were wickedly long and black and horns curved out of his skull. A heavy black cloak rested on his shoulders and a thick book sat on his lap.

"Hello, Gaara," the man said. "Do you remember?"

"Who are you?" he asked instead.

"I'm someone. A familiar face from your past, just like everyone else here. But you have never met me, or any of the others you saw tonight."

"I don't understand."

"Hn. I know." He dragged a claw down the spine of his volume. "We borrowed from your memories."

"I would like those back."

"Memories can not be given or taken. They can be seen and… hidden. You're hiding from your own memories, Gaara. We have nothing to do with that."

"I remember killing people. I was… angry. And jealous."

"Hn," commented the man. "What then?"

Gaara stared into those scarlet eyes and felt as if everything else was falling away. "… Lee… Lee, he's my…"

"Your…?"

"He's… mine. And I'm his. He calls me his soulmate and talks about youth and spring a lot."

"I see."

"He… loves me. And he knows I… love him back."

"Hn."

Gaara frowned and tore his eyes away, looking down at his hand. For the first time, he noticed a silver band on his left hand. "He introduced me to his friends and they…"

"Cared?" asked the man.

"Yes." He nodded. "They cared. So I…"

"Changed." The man flipped a page in the book.

"… I'm in Hell."

"Yes. You are. You're at my Carnival, actually. The _Devil's_ Carnival."

Gaara studied the man's horns and claws and stayed silent.

"Do you feel cheated, Gaara? You changed your ways. You did charity work and community service and you even babysat your friends' children. Half of the people you killed even deserved to die. You let go of your anger and your jealousy and he learned how to care for others and trust them to stand by you."

But he still ended up in Hell.

Gaara frowned. "I don't remember dying."

"No… You remember opening a door."

"Yes."

"You remember Lee screaming, 'Don't open it. DON'T OPEN IT!'" His voice mimicked Lee's exactly, as if Lee was speaking out of his mouth. Then he sealed his lips shut over sharp, ragged teeth, and the shrill rise of Lee's panic was cut off.

"… Yes."

"You opened it anyway. You knew something terrible was on the other side, and your lover was screaming for you to not open, but you did. What do you think happened after that and before you woke up here?"

"I opened the door before," Gaara pointed out. "Every night for two weeks."

"Hn. And your lover told you not to open it every time."

Gaara remembered Lee's whimpers and sighs that always began with 'Don't open', and then would trail off.

"Hn." The Devil perched its chin on one hand. Black hair flowed.

"Why only after two weeks?" Gaara asked.

"Why not?"

"I don't remember anything after opening the door."

"You're wondering why," The Devil said and not asked. "I'll tell you. Lee isn't here. He also isn't on earth anymore."

Gaara's heart curled into itself. It strangled and ripped itself. It wept red tears. "He… died."

The Devil simply stared.

"He… died."

Lee died.

Lee was dead.

Lee was...

The intruder on the other side of the door wasn't human. It was tall and red and all of its muscles were on the outside, gleaming and flexing as it threw a heavy hand with fingers that dragged on the ground at Gaara.

Gaara flew to the side, gun going off, and Lee rolled out of bed with a surprised yelp. The sound attracted the thing, whatever it was, and pink drool frothed at its lipless mouth, between teeth as big as thumbnails.

It roared and leaped over the bed to where Lee had fallen. Gaara, head spinning, world coming in and out of focus, and the back of his head wet and throbbing, only vaguely heard the beginning of Lee's screams.

He forced himself to his feet with a roar and raised his pistol, shooting at one of the creature's many backs. He tripped over one of the many beds and finally realized that he was seeing multiples and all of his shots had missed. He took aim, but the barrel was empty and it clicked uselessly.

He cursed and threw himself on the monster's back. He grabbed it up in a chokehold and it wheezed as it stood and shook itself, trying to throw him off.

It finally succeeded and Gaara hit the ground hard, next to his lover.

Lee looked at him with huge, dark eyes. Blood seeped out of his mouth. Huge, deep gashes littered his naked body and his intestines trailed over the floor.

Lee tried to say something. Or he could have been choking on blood. Or maybe he spoke perfectly, but Gaara wouldn't know as he yelled and tried fervently, out of his mind and on the very edge of consciousness, to shove Lee's organs back into his body.

"Lee, you're okay. You're okay, Lee, you're strong, you've got the power of youth and springtime on your side…" Gaara wasn't even sure what he was saying, or if what he was saying made sense. Everything after that wobbled off into one ceaseless babble of sounds and syllables.

Lee's eyes got glassy and the creature roared as it grabbed Gaara's head in one hand and –

Gaara felt his neck. The collar was soaked with blood.

"Hn," said the Devil. "How do you feel knowing that your actions, that a demon after your soul, resulted in the death of the man who taught you how to love?"

"I'm in Hell," Gaara answered quietly. "I didn't get here on good behavior."

The Devil sighed. "No, you didn't. And you're never going to leave on good behavior either." He flipped another page in the book, glimpsed down at whatever was written there, and then gently closed it. He set it aside and crossed his legs in a business-like manner. "Your story ends here, Gaara. You changed, but you were never forgiven for your crimes. You can't go to Heaven and see your lover, and it's in my interests to not kick you out of my Carnival and let my hounds hunt you down and tear you to pieces for the rest of eternity."

Gaara closed his eyes. "You want something."

"Hn. I want you to join my Carnival…"

"As the Beast."

"You catch on quick."

"What's in it for me?"

The Devil raised a brow. "You expect there to be something for you in this deal?"

He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "I don't care if you torture me, or if you use me. Just let me see Lee one more time."

"You want to hold him," the Devil said. "And you want to talk to him. You want to know if he forgives you for opening the door."

"…" Gaara gave him a beseeching look. "A Beast is nothing without his Beauty."

"Hn… Alright. For the good things you did do on earth while alive, you will get to be with Lee every fifty years on the anniversary of your deaths. But you have to be loyal to me and do exactly as I say between every visit. These are… privileged visits. You will lose that privilege if you act out against me or conspire to get rid of me." He held out a hand, wicked black talons beckoning. "Do we have a deal?"

Gaara instantly grabbed it with his own. "Yes."

The Devil's claws raked against his palm as he withdrew his hand and stood. "Then in fifty years, you will see your Lee. The cage you woke up in will be your home and the demons who led you here will be your family. You will learn your act and perform accordingly. You will be told to do things you will not agree with, and you will see things that you will want to stop. But you will do as you are told and you will not interfere unless I order you to." The door opened behind him.

The Devil gestured for him to leave. "Goodbye, Beast."

"There are two acts for tonight." A man with lanky black hair and all of his bones pressing into his skin opened a flat book. "Tonight's performers are… Hobo Clown… Skeleton Man… Paper Mache Doll… and the Beast." He looked up and only three of the four were assembled.

The man frowned. "Has anyone seen the Beast?"

The performers and demons looked amongst themselves. Only two heads of scarlet red hair were found, but neither of them belonged to the Beast.

"He's off today."

Everyone paused and looked. The Devil had arrived.

The Devil did not bother to enter the tent, but only stood at the flap, watching them. "He won't be making tonight's acts. You'll have to choose someone else."

"He's _off_?" The Magician stepped forward, cape swirling and lights flickering on the end of his wand. "Since when are we allowed to have _off_ days?"

Everyone took a safe step back as the Devil pinned the Magician with a scarlet stare. "Would you like to have an _off_ day?" The way the Devil asked suggested that his off day would stretch to the end of eternity.

"N-no. N-no, I very much like what I do here, t-thank you, S-sir…"

He scurried back into the fold and the Devil's second-in-command grimaced.

"Taking the Beast's place, we'll have…"

Fingers ran through his hair and down his back, removing built-up tension with just the right amount of pressure.

Gaara leaned back into the touch, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted. "Lee…"

His lover gently kissed his cheek, then his scar, and, finally, his lips. Lee smiled at him, a lingering light of sadness in his wide, dark eyes. "Ssshhh, Gaara… Just relax. I will make you feel better!"

He snatched one of Lee's hands and brought it to his mouth. Carefully, he made sure not to prick Lee with his sharpened teeth, or to scratch him with his pointed claws. "Just having you here makes me feel better," he admitted.

Lee kissed him again… and then again. And again and again. Gaara wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and held on as tightly as he could.

He didn't want their day to end. Not after having waited for so long. But it would and Gaara could not linger on trying to stretch time when it refused to be stretched.

Lee touched the leather of his collar and tears ran down his cheeks. Somewhere on earth, it began to rain.

"You should always be with me," Lee whispered. "You should never leave my side!" It was obviously a universal flaw that they had been separated.

Gaara turned Lee around and began braiding his hair. The action calmed Lee a slight bit. "I'm here now," he said into Lee's ear, suckling on the lobe and distracting Lee further. "And you have me for a little while longer." He stroked the back of Lee's neck with his knuckles.

He pressed an open-mouth kiss to Lee's jaw. And he sang,

'_Let me hold you,_

_Let me keep you,_

_In the time we have._

_It's been too long since I last had you._

_Don't let me feel regret._

_I've suffered Hell and all its souls,_

_And I've suffered without you._

_We'll have to let go before we're ready._

_Let me burn you into my memories._

_Let me know the feel of you in my arms,_

_Let me hold onto your warmth._

_Let me hold you,_

_Let me keep you,_

_In the time we have._

_I need you to be strong for me,_

_So I can strong for you._

_Hold your tears back _

_And give me your smiles._

_I'll need them to survive the nights_

_And the days where I can't have you._

_Touch me in the way you did._

_It will keep me safe from Hell's cold._

_Let me hold you,_

_Let me keep you,_

_In the time we have…'_

_Author's Note: I watched 'The Possession of David O'Reily' and 'The Devil's Carnival'. They were both great inspirations in this story. 'The Devil's Carnival' was a musical and freaking awesome. 'The Possession of David O'Reily' was absolutely terrifying and wicked. I suggest both to movie-goers and anyone who thought that this story was a little bit neat. ALSO, lyrics are mine._


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